


Sweep Me Off My Feet

by trollmela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trollmela/pseuds/trollmela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't many people, human or otherwise, who can carry Sam's full body bridal-style. Castiel is one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweep Me Off My Feet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the OhSam fic challenge in 2011 and the following prompt: “Considering the gigantor Sam is nowadays, there aren't many people, human and not, who can carry his full body bridal-style. Cas, with his angelic superhuman strength, is one of them. Doesn't have to be Sam/Castiel (I actually prefer gen) but an inside on their relationship would be wonderful“.

The first time Castiel saw one of the brothers sick, it was like a fascinating spectacle. They didn’t get sick often. But when they did, it was… terrible.

Sam got sick after their encounter with Famine. After suffering through withdrawal, he was brought down by a cold, with fever and pains which forced him to remain in bed. Dean took care of him, uncaring that he might catch it, so Castiel didn’t anything to do but sit around Bobby’s house and watch Dean and Bobby take turns cooking teas and soups. And he was glad, too; as much as he had come to appreciate humans as God’s creations, who were capable of greatness, a shivering, feverish man who coughed loudly and blew snot into tissues suddenly did not have much in common with a healthy man anymore.

Thankfully, Sam was only ill for little more than a week and Castiel was spared of any further such observations. Then, the younger Winchester broke his ankle. A spirit threw him while Dean was digging up its grave. Castiel was looking for God at the time, so he only saw the results when he returned to them and Sam was confined to bed. Sam was complaining loudly when Castiel appeared, expression clearly showing his irritation.

“I’m the one getting bored here because I can’t walk! Now will you give me my laptop back?!”

Dean was sitting at the motel’s table, the coveted laptop in front of him and he was surfing on the internet. Out of interest, Castiel moved behind Dean to look at the screen; he probably shouldn’t have been too surprised by the pictures of scantily-clad women. Dean didn’t seem to take Sam’s demand seriously, as he did not move.

He only replied: “And I’m the one forced to stay here just in case you need to go to the bathroom.” Turning to Castiel, he said: “Cas, can you believe it? Genius here left our last crutch at some motel room.”

“I didn’t leave it, _you_ did!” Sam argued. “And if you let Cas look at porn I’ll-“

Castiel didn’t need to read their minds to know that neither remembered exactly who had left the crutch, or even in what state for that matter. Sam thought it was in Wisconsin, Dean thought it was Utah.

“You’ll do what?” Dean challenged.

Sam shook his head, unable to come up with a suitable punishment.

“And you’re the one refusing to go buy a new crutch!” He said instead.

“’Cause I know you. The moment I walk out that door, you’ll be wishing for the john and do something stupid to get there.”

Sam frowned. “What?!”

Dean checked his watch. “The last time you went was four hours ago.”

His brother’s face twisted into a disturbed expression; the fact that Dean apparently kept track of his bathroom visits was just gross. Before the debate could go on any longer, Castiel offered:

“I can remain here with Sam.”

“Great!” Dean shut the laptop. “I’ve been dying to get out of here.”

He almost leapt off the chair, grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and put his gun into the waistband of his pants.

“Later!” He called before the door slammed behind him.

Sam gave the laptop a longing look.

“Cas, could you…,” he began.

“Of course.” Castiel handed the computer over, then sat onto the very edge of the chair Dean had vacated.

“Umm, you could watch TV, if you like?” Sam offered.

“Thank you but no. I will take the time to… speak with myself.”

Sam didn’t look as if he understood the angel, but replied: “Okay.”

Castiel didn’t watch Sam surfing on his laptop. But eventually, the human started shifting on the bed and glancing at the bathroom, no ten minutes actually after Dean had left the room.

The angel stood and walked over to Sam’s bed.

“You need to use the bathroom,” he stated.

Sam looked like a deer caught in the headlight. “No, it’s okay! I can wait!”

“You keep thinking about it,” Castiel argued.

Sam looked away in embarrassment. He really did have to go. He had hardly thought ‘Okay’, when Cas took him by the arm and pulled him easily off the mattress. But then the problems started. Sam had broken his right ankle and Castiel was supporting him on his left. There was some awkward repositioning before they could slowly limp towards the bathroom.

Thankfully, Sam was spared the even more awkward points of a bathroom visit, because Cas seemed to understand those well enough. The only real downturn was that Dean came back just in time to see Castiel help Sam on the return trip and laughed at them. Sam didn’t break his ankle again in the time Castiel was with them. And compared to the other injuries they suffered while fighting against the apocalypse, a broken ankle was the least severe.

* * *

As time passed, Castiel lost more and more of his angelic powers. He could still hear his siblings, had to watch himself every so often before he cried out to them; but he lost his powers to heal almost immediately. The ability to banish demons soon followed, or perhaps it was also an immediate loss which he himself did not realize until he needed it. At least he kept his angelic resilience to alcohol.

Then, Sam was seriously hurt. They had caught wind of Meg’s whereabouts and, assuming that she was still one of Lucifer’s top demons, decided to hunt her down. It turned out that while Meg _had_ been there, she wasn’t anymore. In her stead, the Winchesters and their angel ran into more than twenty other demons. And although they had expected a large number and violent resistance, they found that they were not as prepared as they should have been.

Perhaps, the apocalypse had taken its toll on them in more than one way. They had become tired and burned out; they had little hope of success against both angels and demons and their dire prospects had made them reckless.

Sam was shot. Two bullets had caught him in his right thigh from the side, one of which went through and into his left leg. He toppled over onto the floor and was only able to help with his own gun and an exorcism while Castiel and Dean handled the rest of the horde.

When the demons had either fled, been killed or exorcised, Dean and Cas rushed back to Sam.

“How often were you hit?” Dean demanded, frantically looking Sam over even as he asked. One of Sam’s hands was clenched around his leg.

“Twice,” Sam replied through gritted teeth. “One through and into the other leg.”

Dean swore. “As if it isn’t difficult enough to carry your heavy ass! We need to get you out of here. Any arteries hit?”

His brother shook his head. “Definitely not. I’d know. But it hurts like hell.”

Dean gave a humorless chuckle.

“I can take him,” Castiel offered.

And now more than ever Castiel was glad that this was at least one power he still had: superhuman strength.

Dean didn’t immediately take him up on his offer, and that should have hurt but Castiel knew that for Dean, no one was more important than his little brother.

“Don’t drop him,” Dean warned, perfectly serious.

Castiel nodded. Turning to Sam, he said: “Put your arms around my neck.”

Sam did as he was told and Castiel pushed his hands under his knees. Sam gasped in pain as the angel lifted him up and tightened his arms around Castiel’s neck. Castiel didn’t seem to mind.

Dean chuckled. “Look at you, carried bridal-style by an angel. If you hadn’t just been shot, I’d call you the biggest girl I know.”

If Sam hadn’t been more occupied with his own health, he would have seen Dean’s comment as what it was: distraction. But as things were, he didn’t reply. Dean went ahead as they walked back to the car. Luckily, it seemed that they had either caught all of the demons or the rest hadn’t cared to stick around. Dean opened the Impala’s backdoor and Castiel carefully lowered Sam onto the upholstery.

“We need to wrap the wounds,” the angel said.

“I know,” Dean replied. He had already taken out their first aid kit and brought some bandages around. Castiel stayed out of the way as Dean wrapped them around his legs provisionally.

“Hospital?” Sam asked breathlessly.

His brother nodded. “Absolutely.” Turning to the angel, he said: “Get in next to him and watch him.”

Castiel complied mutely and soon, they were on the road to the nearest hospital.

* * *

It was the first time Castiel saw Sam in a hospital bed. He didn’t look as bad as Dean had after Alistair, but he was still paler than normal, and tired from the drugs. Dean had gone to book a room for them while Castiel had stayed behind to watch over the younger Winchester. It seemed that it was getting routine for him to watch Sam while Dean was away. Castiel took it the way it was meant: that Dean trusted him and that Castiel was considered to be part of the family. He liked the thought. It made him think of heaven.

The hospital, he found, looked much like the one he had been in himself after etching a banishing sigil into his own flesh. It was large and confusing, it smelled and few were there voluntarily. Castiel could still remember a very confused man who had been put in the bed next to him; he tried to leave several times, never quite understanding why the nurses stopped him and finally he was tied to the bed with a belt.

When Sam woke up, Dean was asleep and Castiel was looking out of the window. But as if he could hear Sam’s eyelids sliding open, he turned to watch as Sam blinked and looked around the room, trying to remember where he was.

“You’re in a hospital,” Castiel explained. “You were shot yesterday.”

Dean shifted in his sleep, seemingly aware that Castiel had spoken, but didn’t wake.

On the bed, Sam nodded slowly. “I remember now.”

Sometimes, Castiel thought that things would be a lot easier if he knew how to talk to humans. As it is, he asked:

“Does the medicine help?”

Sam gave him a drowsy look. “Yeah, I think so. Is there water somewhere?”

The angel nodded. “I’ll go fetch some.”

He returned with a plastic cup of water which he handed to Sam. The Winchester struggled to sit up until Castiel realized his problem and gingerly helped him sit. Sam drank like a man close to dying from thirst and only stopped once the cup was empty.

“Thanks.”

Castiel set the cup onto the table.

“Do you want more?”

Sam shook his head. He saw Dean sleeping on a chair and some of the lines on his face smoothed out. Castiel hadn’t expected any other reaction. The brothers couldn’t rest without knowing the other was all right.

“Are you all right?” Sam asked.

“I’m well,” he replied honestly. And it was true. He may have lost most of his angelic powers. But sitting here at a friend’s bedside, he decided that he had made the right choice in following the Winchesters instead of his brothers.

“You should rest,” he added.

Sam nodded weakly. He gave Cas a look as if to gauge whether the angel needed rest as well. But Castiel had not fallen that far yet to need sleep. Sam fell asleep quickly. And unlike during the last nights Castiel had observed him, he seemed to rest peacefully and without dreams.

Angels didn’t forget. So Castiel couldn’t claim that he’d “never forget” something because it didn’t have the magnifying meaning it did for humans. For him, it was the truth. But he _could_ say that some moments were foremost in his mind when he thought of the people he knew.

Of Dean he remembered the first time he saw him in hell. He remembered the moment of Bobby’s irritation at Crowley when he saw that the demon had taken a picture of their kiss to seal the deal. Of Jo and Ellen he remembered when they had downed shots together the night before they had gone to Carthage.

His memory of Sam was the moment they parted. Sam had asked him to take care of Dean and Bobby. Cas had said it wasn’t possible and Sam had wanted him to lie. Castiel had done it. Badly, but he had done it.


End file.
